


The Words He Couldn't Say

by WyldWerewolf



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: I'm Sorry, John - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Prompt Fic, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sorry Not Sorry, apology, prompt, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyldWerewolf/pseuds/WyldWerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking prompts and writing them out. This wasn't really meant to be Sherlock and John, but it sort of ended up that way.<br/>Also, this wound up longer than I planned, but shorter than expected, so... Yeah?</p>
<p>Prompt:<br/><b>Write a paragraph where a character apologizes without using the words <i>apologize</i>, <i>regret</i>, or <i>sorry</i>.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words He Couldn't Say

The words would not come. He wanted to make it right, to admit he was wrong, but he couldn’t do it.

Instead, he filled the house with flowers, one of every kind he could find. People liked that sort of thing, didn’t they? Petals filled the spaces on the floor, candles placed where they wouldn’t catch fire. Romantic and probably over the top. The idea of it annoyed him, but this verses saying the words that caught in his throat? He’d take this any day.

He picked up the violin and played soft songs, eyes closed as he lost himself in the music as it filled the living room, covering the soft footsteps that slowly made their way up the stairs. The door creaked open and for a moment, just a moment, he faltered and the notes stuttered before smoothing out again.

“Sherlock.”

His name was said in the near quiet and he stopped, bow perched on the strings unmoving. He did not turn to face the one who called him, afraid he’d still be unable to say the words that so desperately needed to be said.

“Sherlock, look at me.”

He made a strangled sort of noise. The voice was so soft, so understanding instead of being harsh, angry, like it should have been. He turned to stare at the man who stood in the doorway, the arm that held the bow dropping to his side. The violin still sat beneath his chin, though it was mostly forgotten now as he looked, simply looked at John.

John stood there, a confused expression on his face, but all traces of anger were gone. A smile ghosted along his lips but refused to appear. He looked tired like their argument had taken a lot from him, and he thought perhaps it had. It had taken a lot from him as well, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to fix this.

“What is this, Sherlock?” The smile tugged on the edges of his lips, sparking laughter in his eyes.

Sherlock straightened slightly, almost in defense, before sighing. “You know I don’t,” he raised a lip at the unspoken word, trapped. “So, instead…”

He waved his hand around the room as if that was enough of an explanation. Obvious, he wanted to say but didn’t. John wasn’t an idiot, not by any means, but sometimes he did miss things so painfully clear. Sherlock hoped that this wouldn’t be one of those times.

“I’m not angry, Sherlock, I never was.” A giggle tinted his words and Sherlock scrunched his nose. Why would he laugh? “But, I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

“You’re laughing.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yes, you git. I’m laughing. I was gone, what, an hour, and our flat is filled with flowers.”

“And candles.”

“Yes, Sherlock, and candles.” John shook his head, dropping his gaze to the floor so that the taller man couldn’t see the smile. It didn’t last as he moved, closing the space between them. “Come here, you idiot.”

Sherlock smiled tentatively as he dipped his head, allowing John to wrap his hands around his waist, the violin drifting to his side. The doctor placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“We really need to work on your vocabulary and how much is too much when it comes to things like this,” John murmured into his chest.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, chuckling. “Not good?” he hummed into the shorter man’s shoulder.

“No,” John rejoined, “Very good.” 

He made an appreciative noise. Even if he couldn’t say the actual words, John understood, and that was a brilliant thing indeed.


End file.
